Inebriated
by inkstainedfingers97
Summary: "Lisbon!" he cried happily when he saw her. That was her first clue that he was drunk. Of course, the sight of him half-lying on the grass with his head propped up against the wall of the church with a half empty wine bottle balanced on his chest and his elbow resting on a Civil War era drum was another pretty significant piece of evidence. Post ep for 6x03, Wedding in Red.


Disclaimers: This is for fun and no money.

Spoilers: Through 6x03, Wedding in Red

Rating: Teen, I guess.

A/N: Warning: extreme silliness ahead. This story was inspired by the incomparable Idan's wonderful story, "Wedding Planning." If you haven't read it, I suggest you stop what you're doing and do so immediately. Anyway, this is a different take on a similar premise. It may be a bit OOC, but meh, it was fun. Hope you like it.

xxx

She found him behind the church, of all places, drinking home-brewed wine with the Civil War re-enacters.

"Lisbon!" he cried happily when he saw her. That was her first clue that he was drunk.

Of course, the sight of him half-lying on the grass with his head propped up against the wall of the church with a half empty wine bottle balanced on his chest and his elbow resting on a Civil War era drum was another pretty significant piece of evidence.

"Jane," she said warily. She didn't think she'd ever seen Jane this drunk before—not even that time that crazy woman had force-fed him enough booze to nearly give him alcohol poisoning when they were investigating the death of that poor Santa Claus.

He turned to his comrades. "Fair maiden," he declared, pointing at Lisbon.

The rest of the men scattered about the ground next to the church in similar states of intoxication nodded sagely, some of them cheering in appreciation. One of them actually shouted a slurred 'Huzzah!'

Lisbon thought about pointing out that they were in the wrong time frame, but figured arguing the point to a group of grown men in full Civil War military dress was rather pointless.

Jane smacked the drum next to him with enthusiasm, then scrambled unsteadily to his feet. The men nearest him jumped in surprise as the bang of the drum reverberated in their ears, but they only stirred slightly before returning to their previous torpor.

Once upright, Jane swayed slightly on his feet. Lisbon put a hand out to steady him. He leaned against her gratefully, draping one arm over her shoulders and keeping a firm grip on the bottle of wine with his other hand.

She gave him a sidelong glance and noted with some amusement, "Patrick Jane, you are a mess."

"Meh." Jane took another swig from the bottle.

"Have you been here this whole time?" Lisbon asked. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

His face lit up. "Aw, Lisbon, you were looking for me?"

"You left the bar pretty soon after we got there. I was worried about you."

He wrinkled his nose. "Going to a bar after a wedding is hardly a proper reception."

"That's why you bailed out after being there less than half an hour with the rest of the team?" she said skeptically. "Because you didn't think it was a proper venue for a wedding reception?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned his head and buried his nose in her hair, breathing deeply.

Lisbon shifted uncomfortably, unnerved by this uncharacteristic display of physical affection. "I should get you back to the hotel."

Jane pulled away from her as though she'd suggested inviting Red John to a tea party. "I don't want to go back to the hotel," he said petulantly.

"Well, what do you suggest?" Lisbon said. Now that there was enough distance between them that there was no danger that he might start nuzzling her hair again, she could afford to humor him.

He considered this. "Let's go visit the ducks," he decided.

"Haven't you had enough quality time with those ducks for one day?" Lisbon asked, exasperated.

"Maybe. But you haven't."

"I saw them earlier," she reminded him.

"Yes, but you didn't properly appreciate them."

"I think you appreciated them enough for the both of us. They'll be lucky if they haven't sunk to the bottom of the pond after all those muffins you fed them."

He shook his head. "No. You need to see them," he said decisively. "C'mon."

He took her by the hand and started pulling her towards the woods, wine bottle still firmly clenched in his other hand. He moved with surprising determination for a drunk person. Though she had to admit the path he forged wasn't exactly straight.

Against her better judgment, Lisbon allowed him to lead her through the trees towards the pond.

He stopped when they got to the spot where he'd been feeding the ducks earlier. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Lisbon breathed too, inhaling the sweet night air. It was a beautiful spot, with the trees framing the water and the moonlight reflecting off the pond.

Jane opened his eyes. "Would you like some wine?" he offered courteously, extending the bottle to her.

She sniffed it cautiously. It smelled like turpentine. "God, Jane. You're in Napa Valley, home of the best wines in the country, yet you choose to drink yourself into a stupor on this stuff?"

Jane shrugged. He squinted at the water. "There are no ducks here," he observed.

She looked at him, trying to figure out what had prompted this fairly radical departure from his normal obsessively controlling nature. "What's going on, Jane?" she said softly.

He feigned innocence. "What do you mean?"

"This isn't like you. What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on. Except the ducks have apparently gone on some kind of duck vacation."

"I'm serious. You didn't even come to the wedding. You bailed out of the reception after twenty minutes to get drunk with the sixty-seventh regiment instead of celebrating with your friends on one of the most important days of their lives. What gives?"

He avoided the question. "I came to the wedding."

"You skulked around the door without ever actually coming in."

"I had to arrange the twenty-one gun salute."

She rolled her eyes. "You couldn't have escaped your arranging duties for five minutes to attend the actual ceremony?"

"Those troops weren't as easy to organize into a straight line as you might think. Between you and me, I think some of them had a bit of a head start on the celebrations, if you know what I mean," he said, gesturing meaningfully with his wine bottle.

Lisbon gave up. "Whatever."

Jane let the bottle fall to his side, dangling loosely from his fingers. "It's nice here," he commented. "Kind of romantic, don't you think?"

Lisbon grunted noncommittally, unwilling to engage in such a potentially dangerous line of conversation.

He peered out over the water. "I still don't see the ducks," he announced.

"Maybe they're sleeping," Lisbon suggested, thinking about what a ridiculous conversation they were having. At least he wasn't talking about the romantic scenery anymore.

"Maybe we should go look at the bella vista, instead," he reflected, looking toward the path that led to the cliff side.

"No," Lisbon said firmly. "I don't want you anywhere near a cliff's edge in the state you're in."

"Fine. I'll just look at the bella vista from here," he decided, turning towards her.

"Good idea," Lisbon said. But rather than turning back to the view of the pond, he fixed his attention on her, gazing at her raptly.

"What?" she said self-consciously. He was standing way too close to her.

He reached out and touched her hair. "Do you know you have really soft hair, Lisbon?" he said conversationally.

Lisbon bit her lip. A drunken caress should not be allowed to feel that good. "Just—go back to looking at your bella vista," she said, gesturing to the pond.

"I'm already looking at my favorite bella vista, bella donna," he sing-songed.

She blushed furiously. "Just how much of that wine did you drink, Jane?"

"Just the right amount to do this," he said, winding his fingers in her hair and bending his face towards hers, his eyes closed and his lips softly parted.

Lisbon jerked her head away, her heart rate skyrocketing. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Kissing you," he said, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. He frowned. "Well, trying, anyway. This would really work better if you cooperated, you know. Hold still." He bent towards her again.

She extricated herself from his grasp and stumbled backwards several steps in her haste to escape him and the way he was looking at her. "_Why?_" Her heart was beating so hard she was half afraid it might try to beat its way out of her chest.

He advanced upon her. "You're very kissable, Lisbon. Surely you know that."

Lisbon knew no such thing. She continued to retreat. "No, I'm not."

"Certainly, you are. I've always known that about you. I'm surprised more people haven't noticed, really. Men, I mean," he clarified, still moving towards her. "If I were a real person, I would have kissed you long ago."

"If you were a real person?" Lisbon echoed, glancing behind her as she continued to inch away from him. If she stepped much farther back, she was going to be standing in the duck pond.

"Yes. If I were one of them, I would have kissed you long ago," he informed her.

Lisbon was confused. "One of who?"

"One of the other men."

He was making no sense. She edged sideways and ducked around him. "What other men?"

Jane seemed unperturbed by her evasion. He turned to face her. "The ones who aren't me."

"But you _are_ you," Lisbon pointed out. This was like reasoning with a three year old.

"Yes," he said heavily. "That's the trouble. Still, after everything we've been through together, I wouldn't have thought you'd deny me one measly kiss. I wouldn't expect someone so kissable to be so stingy with their kisses. Surely you could spare one for me?"

He reached for her, and she escaped his grasp once again. "Jane, you're drunk."

"Yes, I am," he acknowledged. "And I want an inebriated smooch." He sounded drunk, but determined.

Lisbon ducked away from him. "Maybe if you head back to the hotel, you can catch Mrs. Bonner."

"Don't be silly," he said, frowning at her. "I don't want to steal a kiss from Mrs. Bonner. I want to steal one from you."

"Not happening, Jane."

"Please?" He hit her with the puppy dog eyes and inched forward again.

_Lord help me_. She closed her eyes. It was the only possible safeguard against the incredibly tempting image before her. "This is not a good idea, Jane."

"I know," he said softly, his voice entirely too close. She opened her eyes, alarmed. He'd closed the distance between them when she wasn't looking. He bent down and placed the bottle of wine carefully on the ground next to their feet. He straightened, and took her hand in his.

"Then why are you doing this?" she said helplessly. She told herself to pull her hand away, but the message got lost somewhere between her brain and her fingertips. Her hand stayed in his.

His eyes were huge and black, and his mouth was softly parted. He was so close. "What if this is our only chance?" he said, so quietly she almost couldn't hear him. "He's not here right now. He can't see us. He can't use it against us."

She sucked in a sharp breath. "Jane."

His eyes were intense on hers. "I don't want to die without knowing what it's like to kiss you."

So help her God, she didn't either. She squeezed her eyes shut again. "Please don't do this to me."

He cupped her face with his hand. "Do what, Teresa?"

She let out a shuddering breath. "Don't say my name like that. Don't act like this means something to you."

He had the nerve to sound hurt and vulnerable. "What the hell does that mean? You think this doesn't mean anything to me?"

"I think that if I let you kiss me right now, tomorrow you're going to pretend it never happened," Lisbon said, defeated.

He stared at her, eyes full of despair and longing. "I just want my inebriated smooch."

"And then what? We go back to business as usual and I'm supposed to pretend it doesn't matter to me that you're planning to throw your life away on this never-ending quest for revenge?" Lisbon said hopelessly.

He let go of her. "It's not safe not to pretend," he said, his voice hollow.

She took another shaky breath. "Yeah, well, I'm no good at pretending, so please don't ask me to. Not about this."

His shoulders slumped and he looked down. "I'm sorry. I just… I don't know what's going to happen." He sounded tired, exhausted.

"I don't either, Jane," she said, just as quietly.

He scrubbed his hand over his face. "I'm so frustrated."

"I know you are," she said, sympathy warring with her own frustration.

"I spent half the day with McAllister," he went on.

She suppressed a sigh. Maybe she should have stuck with the conversation about the ducks. "And?"

"Practically the whole day," he emphasized. "And I'm not one bit closer to knowing who Red John is. I have no idea if McAllister is innocent, or if he is Red John and saving my life was just one more way to mess with me."

"It was only one day, Jane," Lisbon said gently.

"Right," he said, with a mirthless smile. He looked away. "Ten years and one day."

She said nothing. There wasn't anything to say.

"He already took you once, Lisbon," he said quietly. "I can't give him any more reason to want to take you again. I just thought—here, this once, when no one was around, I would—"

She gave him a broken smile. "Throw caution to the wind?"

He looked away. "Something like that."

She nodded. It was breaking her heart and she hated it, but she understood.

He bent down and picked up his wine bottle. He took a long draught and then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "I think," he said morosely, "I'm ready for you to take me back to the hotel now."

Xxx

By the time she got him back to the hotel, Jane had finished the bottle of wine.

She helped him out of the car. He staggered slightly and fell against her. She would have thought he was playing it up for effect, but he leaned too heavily on her for it to be fake. He really was that drunk. He slung an arm around her shoulders and buried his nose in her hair again. "Mm, you smell good," he slurred.

Lisbon cut her eyes across the parking lot. "Let's get you inside." Thanks to Jane's drunken ramblings about Red John, she was feeling even more paranoid than usual.

"Right," he said, burying his face even more deeply into her hair. "He could be watching."

"Yes, which is why you should stop doing that," Lisbon said, struggling to support his weight as she maneuvered him towards his hotel room. Thank God he was on the first floor.

"Not doing nothing…" Jane mumbled, turning his face into her neck instead.

Jesus. Lisbon exhaled through her nose and concentrated on propelling them forward. It didn't help matters when he wrapped his arms around her from behind while she struggled with his key card, all without removing his face from her neck.

She finally got the door open and hastily pulled Jane in behind her. He stayed distractingly close.

She managed to get the door closed behind them despite Jane snuffling into her neck. "Would you cut that out?" she hissed, jerking her head away.

"No," Jane said, following her neck with his nose. "You denied me my inebriated smooch, and I understand why. However, I'm not about to waste this opportunity. Tomorrow I'll come back to my senses, but right now I want to cuddle."

Apparently that second half of the bottle had made him cheerful again. Lisbon grumbled under her breath and shoved him away from her with only slightly more violence than she'd intended. He flailed awkwardly as he stumbled backwards and fell on his ass with a painful thump. He stood and made a face, rubbing his backside and pretending to glare at her. "Was that really necessary, woman?"

"Yes," she said with certainty, not feeling the least bit remorseful. He deserved it.

He mumbled something incoherent and flopped down onto the bed, fully clothed. He hadn't even taken his shoes off.

She should just leave him like this. It would serve him right.

Her feet refused to carry her to the door. She huffed in exasperation, annoyed at herself, then went into the bathroom and came back with a glass of water and two aspirin. She set them on the bedside table. "Jane," she said, sitting down next to him on the bed and putting her hand on his arm. "Come on, sit up for a minute."

He stirred, and she managed to coax him into a sitting position. "Drink," she told him, holding the water to his lips. The aspirin she left on the table for tomorrow when he woke up with a monstrous headache.

He drank obediently. She helped him take his jacket off and got him to kick off his shoes. She eyed his vest, but decided helping him unbuttoning that many buttons would not be beneficial to her sanity.

He sighed as he snuggled into the pillows. "Ah, Lisbon. Always taking care of me, in sickness and in health."

"Ha, ha," Lisbon said dryly.

He gave her a dopey smile. "I'm glad you're here."

"Of course I'm here," she said. "Who else around here is going to take care of your drunk ass and make sure you don't wander into more trouble?"

"My ass is not drunk," Jane said with dignity. "It's the rest of me that's drunk."

Lisbon couldn't help laughing at him. "My mistake."

He reached out and caught a strand of her hair in his fingertips. "I really like your hair, Lisbon."

She swallowed. She really needed to move away from him now. "Thanks, Jane."

He gazed up at her. "You know what else I like?"

She eased her hair out of his grasp and sat up straighter. "What's that?"

"I liked walking down the aisle with you," he informed her conspiratorially, tapping his fingers against her wrist.

"Excuse me?" she said, startled.

"Today, at the church. We walked down the aisle together," he said sleepily. He curled his fingers around her wrist. "I think that's how we should do it when we get married."

Lisbon froze. "What?" she whispered.

"None of that groom waiting for the bride at the altar thing for us," he yawned, pulling her hand towards him a little. "Too old-fashioned."

Lisbon made a strangled sound.

"Besides, if we walk together," he went on, closing his eyes and cuddling her hand to his chest, "then I can make sure you don't bolt halfway down the aisle. I'll keep hold of you the whole time." He squeezed her wrist as though to emphasize the point.

"Are you serious?" Lisbon squeaked.

"'S a valid concern," he said drowsily. "You don't exactly have the most stellar track record when it comes to long-term commitment, you know."

"You—you've thought about this?" she stammered.

"A bit," he said dreamily, a small smile on his lips. "I have a hard time imagining you in a long white gown, though. I can see you more in a vintage, cocktail length, Jackie O. kind of number."

Lisbon yanked her hand away. "What the hell, Jane?"

Jane opened his eyes, looking put out by the loss of her hand in his. "There's no need to be like that about it, Lisbon. You can have a long white gown if you want. I'm sure you'd look beautiful in any dress you chose. Unless you wanted to wear jeans and a blazer down the aisle. That would be perfectly fine, too. You'd look just as beautiful to me."

Lisbon pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingertips. "Dammit, Jane."

"What?" he said, wounded. "Rigsby gets his perfect life and perfect wife, and I'm not allowed to daydream?"

"Are you telling me you're jealous of _Rigsby?_"

"Of course I'm jealous of Rigsby," Jane said, agitated. "He's free. He can marry the woman he loves without worrying about finding her head in an oven. Or a smiley face on her face or in her office or at her apartment. He can go home to her every night without worrying about what Red John will do to her if he's not clever enough to stop him."

Lisbon's head was spinning. "Is that what all this was about? Not coming to the wedding and getting drunk with the sixty-seventh regiment instead?"

He looked down. "Can you blame me for feeling envious?"

She was silent for a long moment. "I didn't know you thought about…"

He looked up and met her eyes. "I do."

"You never said—"

He kept his eyes on hers. "I did, once."

"You pretended to forget."

He nodded. "I was scared. I _am_ scared."

She tried to think of something bracing and encouraging to say and failed. Instead, she leaned forward and brought her mouth down on his.

He tasted like the worst wine on the planet but she didn't care. She wanted more of him. She wound her fingers through his golden curls and pulled him closer to her. His mouth was soft and desperate and right now, it was hers.

"Oh," he groaned into her mouth. "Oh, my God, Lisbon, you are _so_ good at that."

"Shut up, Jane," she murmured back into his.

For once, he obeyed, and she continued to kiss him. She took her time. God knew how long this experience would have to sustain her, and she wanted it to last. She kissed him sweetly, deeply. He kissed her back hungrily, with expert use of lips and teeth and tongue. Dear Lord. If he could kiss like this while he was drunk, she could only imagine what he was capable of when he had his wits about him. She savored the taste of him, the touch of his tongue, the heat of his mouth.

When she finally released him, he was breathing heavily. His eyes were dark and his hands were buried in her hair. He stared up at her in shock and wonder. "I take back what I said about you being stingy with your kisses," he said breathlessly.

Lisbon arched an eyebrow at him. "Glad to hear it."

"I was right, though," he said, drawing his hands down to her waist and giving her a light squeeze. "You're definitely extremely kissable."

Lisbon dropped another light kiss to his lips. "You're not so bad yourself."

His grip on her tightened. "I have an idea."

"What's that?"

He glanced at the door. "Let's stay in here forever and never open that door."

She smiled a little. "Very practical."

"It could work," he said stubbornly.

"What about food?"

"We'll hire a personal food delivery person and buy a hamster to taste test all the food to make sure it hasn't been poisoned by Red John."

She raised an eyebrow. "Not very fair to the hamster, is it?"

"It will live like a king until its last dying breath," he insisted.

She smirked. "You and your brilliant plans."

"Please, Lisbon," he pleaded. "Let's stay here, where it's safe."

"If we do that, who's going to stop him?" she said softly.

He looked away.

It was a poor consolation for what she was denying him, but she kissed his forehead gently to make up for it. He raised his mouth to hers, kissing her again desperately, greedily. She kissed him back. After, she leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes. They breathed together in the stillness and the silence.

Finally, reluctantly, she drew away.

"You're going to leave, aren't you?" Jane said sadly.

"I have to," she said with great regret. "You said it yourself. He might be watching."

"That makes me want to let you leave this place even less."

"It's the smartest thing to do, in the long run."

He sighed heavily. "I'm tired of being smart."

She gave him one last kiss. "Cheer up. At least you got your inebriated smooch."

"I did at that," he said, sounding melancholy.

She turned to leave, and he caught her by the hand, pulling her back in and pressing his lips to hers once again. She sighed in contentment, because even an inebriated smooch from Patrick Jane was an experience nigh on to perfect bliss.

She smiled at him when they broke apart. "Perhaps I should have said inebriated smooches, plural."

"That one wasn't an inebriated smooch," he said breathlessly.

"No?" she questioned.

"No," he said firmly. "It was a promise."

Her heart beat loudly in her chest. "What kind of promise?"

He took a deep breath. "Teresa, if we're both still alive at the end of this thing, I swear—"

She cut him off with a kiss. "Okay."

"I don't know what's going to happen. I might have to leave for a while," he babbled. "But I'll come back. I promise I'll come back. If I go, will you—?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I will. I promise."

He exhaled. "Okay, then."

She kissed him again—really, this was the last one—and stood to leave.

She turned back to him when she got to the door. "Jane?"

"Yes?" he said hopefully.

"If you pretend to forget this, no poor unsuspecting hamster will be able to protect you. I will kill you myself."

A slow smile broke out over his face. "You know, it's true, what they say, Teresa."

"About what?"

He paused dramatically, then said, "Elephants never forget."

She rolled her eyes at him and opened the door, preparing to leave.

"And neither do I," he added softly.


End file.
